Related quotes: HAVE YOU found me, at...

My Dead Dream

HAVE YOU found me, at last, O my Dream? Seven eons ago
You died and I buried you deep under forests of snow.
Why have you come hither? Who bade you awake from your sleep
And track me beyond the cerulean foam of the deep?

Would you tear from my lintels these sacred green garlands of leaves?
Would you scare the white, nested, wild pigeons of joy from my eaves?
Would you touch and defile with dead fingers the robes of my priest?
Would you weave your dim moan with the chantings of love at my feast?

Go back to your grave, O my Dream, under forests of snow,
Where a heart-riven child hid you once, seven eons ago.
Who bade you arise from your darkness? I bid you depart!
Profane not the shrines I have raised in the clefts of my heart.

poem by Sarojini Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

White on Green

White on green

Or is it green on white?

Surprise mosaic of half melted snow

Offers unexpected beauty

Eat your heart out

You abstract artists.

Bare branches weave

Delicate lace

Over aqua skies I walk

To where my dead children lie

And remember their names

That only I ever breathed

See how green shoots grow

Beneath the snow

Is it green on white

Or white on green?

Eat your heart out

You abstract artists

Random nature

Says it all so much better.

poem by Anita Wisniewska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing Dream

If you are weary-
If you are weak-
Sleep, sleep, sleep, my darling child, sleep.

If you are lonesome-
If you are sad-
Dream, dream, dream, my darling child, dream.

Dream of waters, unending like a mother's love.
Dream of a sky, colored like a painter's canvas.

Dream of green grass, reaching up to touch you.
Dream of a great oak, standing tall above you.

Dream of a waterfall, its call echoing all around.
Dream of a breeze, whispering in your ear.

Dream of a star, shining brighter than any other.
Dream of a friend, sticking closer than any brother.

Dream of a love, burning brighter than a sun.
Dream of a trust, holding harder than a rock.

Dream a dancing dream, a dancing dream, a dancing dream.
Dream a dancing dream, my darling child.
Sleep and dream.
A dancing dream.

poem by Stephen Carey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Two Souls

my soul is as distant as the seven oceans
to yours

what long bridge shall we make
to connect them?

the silent patient bridges of time
eons and eons
till your ghostly fingers touch mine?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Michigan Roads

A blizzard has hit our Michigan roads!
Came in like a lion, throughout the night!
The weather men and woman, had predicted it!
Now our State is buried in, six inches deep, snow of white!

I guess this means, we'll have a real White Christmas?
And there will be some extra, snow days for all of our schools!
But for those procrastinating, last minute Christmas shoppers!
They had better get out their, snow removing kind of tools!

I love when the snow falls like this
deep and fluffy and of purest white!
It seems to make, all that darkness drab of winter
seem to be ok, and really out of sight!

So if you were intending, on driving into our great State
To visit the relatives or maybe ski and such!
Take some extra time to get here now!
Or maybe, just take a train, or maybe a Grey Hound bus?

poem by Linda Winchell
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Save Forests and Rare Species

The Franklin forests are extinct;
These trees of beauty are now rare;
No more are they found in the wild;
Their fragrant flowers tempt a child!

Last seen in 18 zero3,
By Altamaha river-side –
A deciduous tree or shrub,
It grows upto a twenty feet.

With leaves that change color by fall,
Its snow-white flowers are showy;
With golden yellow stamens free,
It is now grown in pots from seeds!

But nothing like the forests wild
Of Franklin trees that grew on own;
You could not find a path through them –
Home to wild animals many.

How Nature rears a forest dense!
–The secrets, no man deciphers;
The way they flourish in the wild,
No gardener can do like-wise!

As man destroys more forest trees,
For want of newer farming land,
Wild wondrous trees then cease to be,
And other species vanish too.

Deforestation is a crime
That has gone uncontrolled with time;
Rare species of trees, shrubs and beasts
Have been effaced from earth with ease.

The earth has lesser green cover!
’Tis growing bald, much more each day,
As forest trees are felled for wood,
At rates more than we ever should.

World’s rain-forests are turning scarce –
A cause of global-warming fast;
Landslides and floods are dangers new;
More species turn something of past!

Trees extract carbon-dioxide,
And make the air less polluted;
Wild beasts are on the rampage when
Their forest habitats are gone.

Save forests and afforest, man;
The clouds bring rain when trees ask for;
Wild beasts need forests for their homes;
Preserve forests in ways you can.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only in the Dream

Only in the Dream
By: Adam M. Snow

Deep in the forest where I lay,
In my Night's now my Day;
The reapers calling pass my ever dreams.
I dream though I am awake,
Dreaming for my siren sake.
But what of a dream:
A trifle-in our own esteem-
A journey in our visions pass,
A trial in its unobtrusive mass.
I lie here in my infinite wonder,
Lost in tranquility asunder.
Woe, woe unto me a new misgiving;
A dream now worth living.

poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whiter Than Snow

As the snow falls from up above, it falls down on the earth below.
It covers everything like a glove, with The Creator’s winter show.
But peeking out is a contrast of, the dark earth beneath the snow.
Soon the sun will return and then, the blanket of snow melts away.
Although it all was covered friend, the earth below is there to stay.
The ground will be exposed again, as before all that snow did lay.

The snow just like the rain will fall, whether it’s in the day or night.
And the snow creates a quiet lull, as it covers all within our sight.
But the ice and snow in its all, will surely dissipate come the light.
Friend, we also cover up in life, our deepest inner hurts and pain.
The inner anguish and the strife, along with thoughts we disdain.
The pains cut deep like a knife, as deep in the heart they remain.

Hidden deep there is also sin, which is hidden down in our heart.
The sin that is buried deep within, creates a much darkened part.
But men in Christ who trust in Him, God gives to them a new start.
Although ones life is like a harlot, Christ will show you how to go.
And though our sin is as scarlet, He’ll make us whiter than snow.
Christ will give you a New Spirit, and in The Spirit you will grow.

All of your sins Christ forgave, this back on the cross of Calvary.
Now matter how darkly depraved, on that cross He set you free.
It was you The Lord had saved, when Christ died upon that tree.
Your sin He did more than cover, for He has washed it all away.
Friend you will soon discover, that in your heart He came to stay.
There His Peace, He will uncover, to fill your heart night and day.

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indian Weavers

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.

Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

poem by Sarojini Naidu
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In November (1)

The leafless forests slowly yield
To the thick-driving snow. A little while
And night shall darken down. In shouting file
The woodmen's carts go by me homeward-wheeled,
Past the thin fading stubbles, half concealed,
Now golden-gray, sowed softly through with snow,
Where the last ploughman follows still his row,
Turning black furrows through the whitening field.
Far off the village lamps begin to gleam,
Fast drives the snow, and no man comes this way;
The hills grow wintry white, and bleak winds moan
About the naked uplands. I alone
Am neither sad, nor shelterless, nor gray,
Wrapped round with thought, content to watch and dream.

poem by Archibald Lampman
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My Blue Rain

Let my blue rain to hold your green of life
And save it from the cruel summer heat
We need so much, my love, to be alive
More than the dying body needs its blood.

We keep so deep in our hearts the crave,
That crave of love awaiting for its gleaming
In our Elysian dream like a soul in a grave
That colored dream engrossed by its deep meaning.

The light of our eyes is shadowed by the gray
Those clouds of suffering, clouds of awakening
Our souls need to rejoice while we need to pray
And our blissfulness is only love uplifting.

Our springs and winters are crowned and entwined
White snow gives all the glow to the exploding green
While green inside the glow of white is hidden
And life is pronged up by spring breeze like a queen.

A curve of silence as deep as a cascade of screams,
Effervescent as globs of foams filling the unwanted void,
Surrounds the green of nature, the rainbow sparkly gleams
Can these divine riches of nature be destroyed?

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Snow on snow

Snow on snow
Flakes gently falling
Like leaves from a tree
Asking permission
Before they land
On the snowflakes underneath
Each one different
Like leaves on a tree
A white carpet
Pure white till soiled
By children’s shoes
They love its touch
Ooo snowball fights
Snow doesn’t hurt
Snow is soft and forgiving
People hurt
They are selfish and cruel
So let it snow
Snow on snow on

poem by James Hart
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Song Of A Mad Girl, Whose Lover Has Died At Sea

Under the green white blue of this and that and the other,
That and the other, and that and the other, for ever and ever,
Under the up and down and the swaying ships swingswonging,
There they flung him to sleep who will never come back to my longing.
The Father comes back to his child and the son comes back to his Mother,
But neither by land or sea
Will he ever come back to me,
Never, never, never
Will he come back to me.
All day I run by the Cliff, all night I stand in the sand,
All day I furrow and burrow the holmes and the heights.
But whether by night or day
There's never a trace or a track,
Never a word or a breath,
In the swill and the swoop and the flash and the foam and the wind,
Never a fleck or a speck
Coming, coming my way.
The mew comes back to the strand and the ship comes back to the land,
But he will never come back
To all the prayers that I pray thro' the scorching black of the day
And the freezing black of the nights,
Never, never come back
To the ear that harks itself deaf and the eye that strains itself blind,
And the heart that is starving to death.
He was chill and they threw him to cold,
He was dead and they threw him to drown,
He was weary and wanted rest-
They should have laid him on my breast,
He would have slept on my breast,
But they threw him into the boiling boil and bubble,
The wheel and the whirl, the driff and the draff
Of the everlasting trouble.
I swear to you he was mine! I swear to you he was my own.
Madam, if I may make so bold,
Do you know what the dead men do
In the black and blue, in the green and brown?
Deep, deep, you think they sleep
Where the mermen moan and the mermaids weep?
Ah, ah, you make me laugh!
I'm not yet twenty years old,
But lean your ear
And you shall hear
A little thing that I know.
Up and up they come to the top,
Down and down they go down.
To and fro the finny fish go,
But slow and slow, and so and so,
Low over high, high under low,
Up and up they come to the top,
Down and down they go down:
When the sun comes up they come to the top,
When the sun sinks they go down.

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graveyard in the snow

Today, I cannot find your grave,
because the stone with your name
is set in the earth,
down, where it is not in the way,
when the caretakers mow the grass,
now you are covered with snow.

Everything is white,
so full of peace, so still,
I sit on the bench,
it is so cold, but
I feel so close to you,
after all, you are cold,
under the earth,
under this white sheet,
hidden, but there, I know.

Only a raven,
shiny in funeral coat of feathers,
black against the white,
sits with me, in a tree,
not far, insistently cawing,
a warning, an emphatic word
of solace.

The trees, dark green
under the snow,
are so silent,
I can hear a soft sliding,
when the clumps of snow
fall on the ground,
startling the raven.
He flies away,
a shadow against the clouds
of winter sky.

I must leave you now,
the deep cavity of my grief
is like the silence
of your snow-covered grave,
enticing me to stay.
But I have promised
a pledge to live,
before I can sleep
under the snow.

poem by Martina E. Elenbaas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream Of The Unknown

I dream of mostly nothing,
A deep black emptiness in space of infinate time.
But there is no time, there is nothing.
I see nothing, I touch nothing.
Am I even here? Do I exist? Where am I?
I'm not anywhere, just darkness all around.

I don't hear anything at all. I don't smell anything.
What kind of dream is this? This dream of the unknown.
It is not a dream. I'm not here, I am nothing.
Dreams are filled with things beyond imagination,
Filled with good things and bad things, but not this.
I am not happy nor am I sad...But I am scared.

Why am I scared? There is nothing here.
I am trembling but I don't feel a thing.
I'm not here, I am nothing just like this darkness.
But I am in fear in this dream of the unknown.
If it's a dream at all. Am I dead? Is that my fear?
If I'm dead, where is the afterlife? Were they right?

I see nothing, I feel nothing, I am nothing.
Fear is the only thing I know in this dream.
But why? If nothing is wrong, why is everything dark?
Why can't I dream? Why am I nothing with nothing around?
No time, no feeling, no sense. Just nothing.
Lost in this forsaken world, this dream of the unknown.

Suddenly, I'm crying. I feel tears stream down my face.
I feel my heart racing. I hear myself choke back cries.
But everything is still dark, everything is still nothing.
I don't understand. What is happening to me?
My eyes open, I'm in my bed. Face buried in my pillow.
I am still crying, I am still scared...I don't know why.

poem by Adam McKim
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The Path Through The Snow

BARE and sunshiny, bright and bleak,
Rounded cold as a dead maid's cheek,
Folded white as a sinner's shroud,
Or wandering angel's robes of cloud.--
Well I know, well I know
Over the fields the path through the snow.

Narrow and rough it lies between
Wastes where the wind sweeps, biting keen:
Every step of the slippery road
Marks where some weary foot has trod;
Who'll go, who'll go
After the rest on the path through the snow?

They who would tread it must walk alone,
Silent and steadfast--one by one:
Dearest to dearest can only say,
'My heart! I'll follow thee all the way,
As we go, as we go
Each after each on this path through the snow.'

It may be under that western haze
Lurks the omen of brighter days;
That each sentinel tree is quivering
Deep at its core with the sap of spring,
And while we go, while we go,
Green grass-blades pierce thro' the glittering snow.

It may be the unknown path will tend
Never to any earthly end,
Die with the dying day obscure,
And never lead to a human door:
That none know who did go
Patiently once on this path through the snow.

No matter, no matter! the path shines plain;
These pure snow-crystals will deaden pain;
Above, like stars in the deep blue dark,
Eyes that love us look down and mark.
Let us go, let us go,
Whither heaven leads in the path thro' the snow.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep Sleep

Ive been walking in a deep sleep
Sleepwalking but I just woke up
From a deep sleep
A very deep sleep
Ive been running on remote control
In a deep sleep
I awoke the moment I was told
That a smile is just a frown turned around
On the face of a clown with a mean streak
It was a deep sleep
A very deep sleep
I cant remember what I used to know
Somebody help me now and let me go
Into a deep sleep
Push me back now let me go
Into a dream again
To a sleep unlike before
So deep it never ends
Ive been caught inside a deep sleep
Sinking deeper after I forgot
Sleepwalking as I watch myself
In a deep sleep
I keep pretending that its someone else

song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cant Sleep Without You Here

I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.
Its 3AM
And I’m awake again.
Through open eyes, I sing my lonely song, To the silver moonlight.
I am consumed by the lonely darkness, Of the night.
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.

When I dream- I dream of our love’s delight-
Only to awake, Without you, By my side.

I’m stuck between longing and desire-
As in the darkness, Within my heart burns passions fire.
Without you here, Next to me, It just doesn’t feel right.
In the darkness, You’re my light!

Within my heart burns an unquenchable fire!
There’s so much more
Which I long for
And desire!

And I grow weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But we can both relate.

I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
Every night without you- I cant help but want to reach out for
More!

Inside my heart-
You’re leaving a road map of all the places we’ve been.
Inside my heart-
Your love has burnt its mark so deep within.
And there’s so much more
For us to long for
And desire!
Within my heart burns passion’s fire!

I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.

I’m weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But you and I can both relate.

Each and every night, I cant help but want to reach out for
More!
And I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.

poem by Philip Alarie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The heart of snow

the heart of snow
is a mirror whitened
by hands that know
a surface enlightened

the heart of snow
a feeble beat of time
of things that grow
in seeds of fragile rhymes

the heart of snow
bleeds the blood of white
for a lamb that knows
the edges of the light

the heart of snow
landscapes hurt the heart
in a death that blows
a flake's graceful art

the heart of snow
do not ever touch
up you will grow
and still know too much

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Date

Whatever happened
To the teenage romance
Is it hidden in a tacky magazine
Everybodys talking
Saying trash is neat
You think its good fun
But its never that free
Who is the man of the moment
Does his image stand ten feet tall
Or is he just a cardboard hero
Staring down at you from your wall
You can dream but you cant touch
You can dream but not too much
You can dream but you cant touch
You can dream but not too much
Friday night
Out on the town
Its a special date
First time around
You read all about the story book romance
He stands there waiting
And you want to hold his hand
Saturday
Youre broken down
Your heart is lying somewhere
Is it lost or found
You can dream but you cant touch
You can dream but not too much
You can dream but you cant touch
If this is love its not enough
You can dream but you cant touch
You can dream but not too much
You can dream but you cant touch
You want a love that costs too much
You can dream but you cant touch
If this is love its not enough
You can dream of tender touch
Dont let your heart be lost to love

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Girl's Song

Do not mind my crying, Papa, I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa, I am not shaking with fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is bideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Somebody else that you love, Papa,
Somebody else that you dearly love
Is weary, like me, because you're away.
Sometimes I see her lips tremble and move,
And I seem to know what they're going to say;
And every day, and all the long day,
I long to cry, 'Oh Mamma, Mamma,
When will Papa come back again?'
But before I can say it I see the pain
Creeping up on her white white cheek,
As the sweet sad sunshine creeps up the white wall,
And then I am sorry, and fear to speak;
And slowly the pain goes out of her cheek,
As the sad sweet sunshine goes from the wall.
Oh, I wish I were grown up wise and tall,
That I might throw my arms round her neck
And say, 'Dear Mamma, oh, what is it all
That I see and see and do not see
In your white white face all the livelong day?'
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Where were you going, Papa, Papa?
All this long while have you been on the sea?
When she looks as if she saw far away,
Is she thinking of you, and what does she see?
Are the white sails blowing,
And the blue men rowing,
And are you standing on the high deck
Where we saw you stand till the ship grew gray,
And we watched and watched till the ship was a speck,
And the dark came first to you, far away?
I wish I could see what she can see,
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Don't you remember, Papa, Papa,
How we used to sit by the fire, all three,
And she told me tales while I sat on her knee,
And heard the winter winds roar down the street,
And knock like men at the window pane,
And the louder they roared, oh, it seemed more sweet
To be warm and warm as we used to be,
Sitting at night by the fire, all three?
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Papa, I like to sit by the fire;
Why does she sit far away in the cold?
If I had but somebody wise and old,
That every day I might cry and say,
'Is she changed, do you think, or do I forget?
Was she always as white as she is to-day?
Did she never carry her head up higher?'
Papa, Papa, if I could but know!
Do you think her voice was always so low?
Did I always see what I seem to see
When I wake up at night and her pillow is wet?
You used to say her hair it was gold-
It looks like silver to me.
But still she tells the same tale that she told,
She sings the same songs when I sit on her knee,
And the house goes on as it went long ago,
When we lived together, all three.
Sometimes my heart seems to sink, Papa,
And I feel as if I could be happy no more.
Is she changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream she was brighter before?
She makes me remember my snowdrop, Papa,
That I forgot in thinking of you,
The sweetest snowdrop that ever I knew!
But I put it out of the sun and the rain:
It was green and white when I put it away,
It had one sweet bell and green leaves four;
It was green and white when I found it that day,
It had one pale bell and green leaves four,
But I was not glad of it any more.
Was it changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream it was brighter before?

Do not mind my crying, Papa,
I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa,
I am not shaking for fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is hideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?